The Continent Makers and Other Tales of the Viagens Read Free

with those pretty silfer hats. When a younk Sha’akhfa, or as you say an Osirian, hat come to your Earth to seek wistom . . .”

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    When Herbert Lengyel, a junior, proposed that they bid Hithafea, the Osirian freshman, the Iota Gamma Omicron’s council was thrown into turmoil. Herb persisted, glasses flashing:
    “He’s got everything! He’s got money, and he’s smart and good-natured, and good company, and full of college spirit. Look how he got elected yell-leader when he’d been here only a few weeks! Of course it would be easier if he looked less like a fugitive from the reptile house in the zoo, but we’re civilized people and should judge by the personality inside . . .”
    “Just a minute!” John Fitzgerald, being a three-letter man and a senior, threw much weight in the council. “We got too many queer types in this fraternity already.”
    He looked hard at Lengyel, though Herb, who would like to have punched his handsome face, was merely a sober and serious student instead of a rah-rah boy. Fitzgerald went on:
    “Who wants the Iotas to be a haven for all the campus freaks? Next thing you’ll find a thing like a bug, a praying-mantis a couple of meters high, sitting in your chair, and you’ll be told that’s the new pledge from Mars . . .”
    “Ridiculous!” interrupted Lengyel. “Martians can’t stand Earthly gravity and humidity for long—”
    “That’s not the point. I was speaking generally, and for my money a young dinosaur’s not much improvement on a Martian . . .”
    “Another thing,” said Lengyel. “We have an anti-discrimination clause in our charter. So we can’t bar this man—this student, I should say—”
    “O yes we can,” said Fitzgerald, stifling a yawn. “That refers only to the races of mankind; it don’t apply to non-human beings. We’re still a club of gentlemen—get that, gentle-men—and Hithafea sure ain’t no man.”
    “Principle’s the same,” said Lengyel. “Why d’you think Atlantic’s one of the few universities left with fraternities? Because the frats here have upheld the democratic tradition and avoided snobbery and discrimination. Now—”
    “Nuts!” said Fitzgerald. “It isn’t discriminatory to pick folks you think will be congenial. It wouldn’t be so bad if Herb had merely proposed some guy from Krishna, where they look more or less human—”
    “There aren’t any Krishnans at Atlantic this year,” muttered Lengyel.
    “—but no, he has to foist a shuddery scaly reptile—”
    “John’s got a phobia against snakes,” said Lengyel.
    “So does every normal person—”
    “Nuts to you, Brother Fitzgerald. It’s merely a neurosis, implanted by—”
    “You’re both getting away from the subject,” said Brother Brown, president of the chapter.
    They went on like that for some time until a vote was called for. Since Fitzgerald blackballed Hithafea, Lengyel blackballed Fitzgerald’s young brother.
    “Hey!” cried Fitzgerald. “You can’t do that!”
    “Says who?” said Lengyel. “I just don’t like the young lout.”
    After further wrangling, each withdrew his veto against the other’s protégé.
    On his way out, Fitzgerald punched Lengyel in the solar plexus with a thumb the size of a broomstick end and said: “You’re taking Alice to the game tomorrow for me, see? And be sure you give her back in the same condition as you got her!”
    “Okay, Stinker,” said Lengyel, and went to his room to study. Although they did not like each other, they managed to get along. Lengyel secretly admired Fitzgerald for being the perfect movie idea of Joe College, while Fitzgerald secretly envied Lengyel’s brains. It amused Fitzgerald to turn over his co-ed to Lengyel because he regarded Herb as a harmless gloop who wouldn’t dare try to make time with her himself.

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    Next day, the last Saturday of the 2054 football season, Atlantic played Yale on the home field. Herb Lengyel led Alice Holm into the stands. As usual,